


Troubled Soul

by russianwinter013



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Heavy gore, Horror, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, Multi, explicit violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russianwinter013/pseuds/russianwinter013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smokescreen's thoughts directly after the destruction of Praxus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Troubled Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This goes with my other story Plagued. It is not necessary to read it in order to understand it, but go ahead and do it if you want. Please comment and kudos. 
> 
> Also, I know the Seeker city is Vos, but I refer to Seekers from there as Vocians, not Vosians. I don't like the s in the word.
> 
> Technically, this story has Smokescreen as the main and only character (meaning it's focused solely on him). Prowl, Bluestreak, and Smokescreen's carrier and sire are only referenced.

He couldn't believe it.

 

Everything he cared for, everything he ever loved…gone. Just like that. All the destruction and horror, a picture blazed into his mind. Its oily claws dug into every crevice, latching on and sinking, tearing, destroying. A hard ache pounded, deep and resonant, a booming thud that sent the welcome sting of pain throughout him. After all, a mere processor ache couldn't harm him, not after all that had happened.

 

He had nothing. There was nothing.

 

_**I have nothing left to give** _

 

_**I have found the perfect end** _

 

What was the point of going on? What would he gain from surviving? Being an outcast was not something he cared for. They would whisper behind his back, murmurs of unsolicited regret, sadness, fear, and concern. Why would they be concerned? It was none of their business worrying about it. Their city had not been destroyed; they had not escaped within an inch of their life. His new family had been destroyed. Everywhere he went, destruction followed. Nothing but death surrounded him. It was fixed to him, like an addicted shadow of the end. He couldn't escape it—everything, everyone he loved—it was always destroyed.

 

_**You were made to make it hurt** _

 

_**Disappear into the dirt** _

 

Was this punishment?

 

Did Primus hate him?

 

What had he done?

 

No one deserved this kind of pain, not unless they were meant to have it, meant to feel something as terrible as this. It tore at him, ripped at his spark, enveloped him in its cold grasp. Agony burned through his veins. Why should anyone suffer like this? Was there a point to living? Would he be welcome if he joined the Allspark?

 

_**Carry me to heaven's arms** _

 

_**Light the way and let me go** _

 

_**Take the time to take my breath** _

 

_**I will end where I began** _

 

Where did _he_ begin?

 

Where did his life, one full of joy and hope and love, become crushed by the merciless hand of expiry? What had brought such a punishment? Had it been something they, the city of Praxus as a whole, had done? Why would Primus send death instead of something else, like a plague? He would have welcomed being infected, to have at least some hope of a cure. Instead, Primus sent this twisted version of retribution for their wrongdoings—the wrathful, mocking hand of the Decepticon Seekers. Their _brothers._  


 

How could someone enjoy destroying a city so much like their own? Did they have no _spark?_ Did they even stop to imagine—to consider—the amount of damage, suffering, and pain they were causing? Would they feel the same if they knew what it was like to suffer? Their city hadn't been destroyed by one so close in relation.

 

It was highly unlikely that there would be more survivors. He had barely managed to escape, and he was not all that resilient. There was a small chance that his brothers had made it, but where they would be, he did not know.

 

All he did know was that Vos was no longer considered a partner. They had become the complete opposite—the enemy. They had revealed their true colors, for the Vocians—the uptight, snobby, rich Vocians— were always deceptive and cunning. Perhaps it was why they had joined forces with the gladiator, the one that was rising in power and making a name for himself by going against the Council. The Vocians probably thought they were better than everyone else because they had the power of flight—"air superiority," as they called it.

 

The thing that frightened him, deep down, aside from all of the pain and misery they had caused, was his city's own true colors. Had they possessed the capability of being airborne, and Vos had not, would they have sided with the enemy?

 

_**And I will find the enemy within** _

 

Were they their own worst enemies? War was not just about hoisting a gun onto your shoulder and aiming it, it was about revenge and survival and deceit. It could bring out the worst in people, he had seen it himself—one left to fight and came back injured beyond repair, forced to be crippled the rest of their useless, miserable life. Their minds would be fragmented, once a field of high quality perception, able to distinguish the smallest of changes and differences in every being around them, only to become a broken, shriveled mélange of insanity and despair and pain, poisoned with the fear of others, the fear of everything.

 

The other would leave to exact their revenge—and in their irrationality, have their sparks carved out while they least expected it by a sadistic murderer.

 

Yes. One was their own worst enemy. One would see a loved one hurt, and attempt—however foolish it may seem—to avenge them. Or, one would have no experience with love and care and kindness, and would seek to destroy everyone who had the riches of life they were denied.

 

Yes. He would become his own worst enemy. He would avenge them.

 

_**'Cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin** _

 

But retaliating would get him nowhere but the scrapheap. No one would fight someone as powerful as the ever growing army filled with hate and betrayal and suspicion. One could only guess the pain they had been in, the horrible agony.

 

But he did not need to guess. He was in agony at the moment. _And oh,_ how it crawled through him. The pain, the despair. Why, Primus? _Why?_  


 

_**Dear agony, just let go of me** _

 

_**Suffer slowly** _

 

_**Is this the way it's got to be?** _

 

_**Dear agony** _

 

Why must he go through this? Why should anyone? It was torture, the amount of despair he was feeling. Everyone he cared for, everything he favored, liked, or loved—gone. _Just **gone.**_  


 

_**Suddenly the lights go out** _

 

_**Let forever drag me down** _

 

His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed, burying his face in his hands. Screams of anguish tore from his throat, echoing with unsettling accuracy throughout the decimated city. He rocked on his broken pedes, aware and uncaring of the shards of metal covered in congealed Energon digging into them.

 

How easy it would be to just give up, to _just…die._ There was nothing left for him. All he loved was gone. What was life without care and love and joy? Nothing but a black hazy miasma of despair, torture, and failure. He had failed, so why should he try again?

 

No.

 

_**I will fight for one last breath** _

 

He had to stay strong. He had to fight. What would his family say if he just gave up?

 

_You useless, good-for-nothing reject. How dare you just sit there and declare it is all over? Why should something as sentimental as grief overwhelm you?_

 

_Come on, Smokie. Don't give up. Where's your sense of adventure? Where will you have fun and find more things to get in to? The Well can't be that promising._

 

_I'm disappointed in you. We are strong. You are strong—stronger than this. Fight it. You never let anything control you, so why start now?_

 

_My dear sweetspark, please. **Please.** Get up. Don't let grief blind you. Shutting out the rest of the world won't amount to anything._

 

_**I will fight until the end** _

 

Yes. He would fight it. He was stronger than grief. He would not let it overwhelm him. It would be dulled, reduced to nothing but an ache hidden deep in his spark. For no matter how hard he tried, he could not completely shut off his emotions.

 

But no matter what, the pain would still reside deep within him.

 

And it would not go away.

 

It was just something he had to bear and live with.

 

_**Dear agony** _

 

_**Just let go of me** _

 

_**Suffer slowly** _

 

_**Is this the way it's got to be?** _

 

_**Don't bury me** _

 

_**Faceless enemy** _

 

_**I'm so sorry** _

 

_**Is this the way it's got to be?** _

 

_**Dear agony** _

 

He would keep fighting, no matter his pain and grief, no matter his past. The agonizing pain and despair and horror would continue to haunt him, and it was just something that would always be there. No doubt about it.

 

Primus would not leave him alone. He never would, no matter how hard he tried to avoid him all-seeing stare.

 

_**Leave me alone** _

 

_**God let me go** _

 

He forced himself up, swaying on his injured legs and pedes.

 

Emotion was something everyone had to live with, whether they liked it or not.

 

It was just one of those things that would be there all of the time.

 

He would not shut himself away from the world. There were others who would care, other places where he could start over and forget this horrific event.

 

__Do not shut yourself away. Would you really want that? He could hear his brother's voice in his helm. You would be a rejected, sorry excuse for a bot. Miserable. Cold. Bitter. Do not become that. You are better._ _

 

_**I'm blue and cold** _

 

_**Black sky will burn** _

 

_**Love pull me down** _

 

_**Hate lift me up** _

 

_**Just turn around** _

 

_**There's nothing left** _

 

He forced himself to walk, stumbling, excruciating steps, leaving pede-steps of drying Energon in his wake. There was nothing for him here anymore. There was no point in dwelling on such a painful matter.

 

_**Somewhere far beyond this world** _

 

_**I feel nothing anymore** _

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics in the story are from Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin.
> 
> Songs of Inspiration: Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin, Breath by Breaking Benjamin, Pain by Three Days Grace
> 
> Instrumentals: Grave Song by Max Ablitzer, Ghost Song by Max Ablitzer, Night Song by Max Ablitzer


End file.
